


Artist at work

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Short & sweet tumblr-weed [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Artist Stiles, Based on a Tumblr Post, Complete, Derek Likes Stiles, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Derek is a Softie, Derek is a Tease, Fluff and Smut, Human Derek Hale, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Photography, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Stiles Likes Derek, Top Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2110671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a professional artist, okay? He doesn’t do stupid shit like have a one-night stand with a critic and then spend the next three days painting like he’s possessed. Except for that one time three days ago where he did exactly that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artist at work

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this picture](http://nivalvixen.tumblr.com/post/94299205197/stiles-is-a-professional-artist-okay-he-doesnt) on Tumblr

Stiles is a professional artist, okay? He doesn't do stupid shit like have a one-night stand with a critic and then spend the next three days painting like he's possessed. Except for that one time three days ago where he did exactly that.

The (extremely hot) guy was such a snob at the start of the night, barely even acknowledging Stiles when they met, in favour for shaking Lydia's hand as the manager of the gallery, but by the end of it, he was the only one that actually had something smart to say and worthwhile listening to (even if he was a bit critical of Stiles' favourite piece; so what if he had to work on his brushwork more?). Stiles might have been a bit tipsy on champagne (hey, if the gallery offered free champagne for the night, then Stiles was sure as fuck going to _drink_ the free champagne), but he was still surprised when his exclamation of 'we should totally be fucking' was responded to by Mr. Tall, Dark and Stubbled with nothing more than a nod of agreement. They were out of the door before Lydia could do more than raise an eyebrow at Stiles. He just grinned broadly in return, arm wrapped around Derek's waist as he headed to his car, and then back to his studio apartment.

Derek had barely waited for the door to close behind them before he pressed Stiles up against it, kissing him like he'd been wanting to do it all night. Stiles had clung on, legs wrapped around his waist as they both fumbled with pants and shirts and damn him for wearing a buttoned shirt that was too tight. Still, they were both undressed a few minutes later, Derek's mouth and teeth working their way along Stiles' exposed skin and sending shivers through his body as he moaned. Derek's hands were large and warm on his cool skin, blunt nails scraping soft lines, and in the haze of the champagne, Stiles had the thought that he was a canvas and Derek was the artist. Which made him think of painting on Derek's body sometime, and he grinned at the thought as he watched Derek kiss and nip his way down his body, thinking of the sharp lines of his body, the soft curving lines he would paint, the feel of making the beautiful man become his very own work of art. Then Derek took Stiles' cock in his mouth and he stopped thinking so he could do nothing but feel.

Derek was enthusiastic as he licked and sucked at Stiles, and Stiles actually had to hook his legs over Derek's shoulders just so he wouldn't fall down. One of Derek's hands splayed across Stiles' stomach, holding him up as much as he was caressing him, his other hand alternating between sliding his cock further into his mouth and teasing at his balls and hole. Stiles shivered as he felt Derek's fingers pressing against his rim, his own hands taking purchase in Derek's surprisingly soft hair, tugging him sharply in warning before he came hard. Derek didn't pull away, instead moving closer in so that Stiles could shoot down his throat, and that was definitely one way to fully appreciate another man's lack of gag reflex. Stiles slipped off Derek's shoulders, feeling boneless and weightless all at once. Derek just looked smug, but hey, he completely earned the smug expression. Stiles pulled him in close to kiss him, tongue licking into his mouth lazily.

Derek moved them both so Stiles was lying on his back on the floor, his fingers returning to their earlier ministrations of teasing Stiles' rim. He shuddered, eyes closing and teeth biting at his bottom lip, squirming as he tried to move his body down further against Derek's fingers. Derek bent down to kiss him again, his body warm and heavy on top of Stiles as he continued to tease and open him slowly. Stiles gasped and moaned into Derek's mouth, trying to beg for more without the words themselves. Derek rubbed his stubbled cheek against Stiles' smooth one, then spent a few minutes sucking on his own fingers as Stiles watched him hungrily, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. Derek let out a groan of want, kissing Stiles again, and finally slid a finger into his ass. Stiles bit at Derek's tongue, hoping to urge him to move faster, but if anything, it made him move even slower, barely up to his first knuckle and already driving Stiles insane. He bucked his hips, but Derek held him down firmly, licking at the roof of his mouth as he continued to torture Stiles. Though not ashamed, Stiles wasn't entirely proud to admit that he was literally weeping and begging for more by the time Derek's second finger slipped inside of him. Derek seemed to move faster with Stiles' begging, his hips rutting up against Stiles' leg, his fingers moving firmer as he started to scissor him open. Stiles kept begging, louder and more vocally with each motion, hips and legs moving to help Derek along. He barely heard the tip of the foil condom packet over his own voice, but there was no way he'd miss Derek's guttural groan as he slid into his ass. Derek's hips jerked forward when Stiles squeezed around him, and this time, Stiles was the one to grin smugly. Derek let out an actual growl, fingers digging into Stiles' hips as he started to move both of them firmly and fiercely, telling him what he'd thought about doing to Stiles the whole night.

Stiles was a big fan of talking dirty, loved to bring his lovers to orgasm because of the things he could say to them, so unlike his talkative self outside of the bedroom, but this wasn't that, this was so much more because he could tell that Derek meant every word. From the way he couldn't look at Stiles at the beginning of the night because he wanted to drag him away and ravish him in the alleyway outside; the harsh and mean criticisms he'd said just to get a rise out of him and see his cheeks flush pink; the way he'd spent most of the evening watching Stiles' long fingers wrapped around the stalks of the champagne flutes and wished it was his cock instead; and how he was torn when Stiles talked about his paintings with such passion that Derek didn't know whether to look at his eyes or his mouth, and _fuck, god, that mouth_. He wanted to spend hours kissing and biting at his lips, just to see them plump and full and red.

Derek ended his confession with a bruising kiss, lips hard against Stiles, and Stiles arched off the floor, pressing as much of his body along Derek's as humanly possible, his cock hard and leaking between them. The motion had Derek coming hard, Stiles' name a whisper on his lips, and Stiles came again, making a sticky mess between them, and he fell back onto the floor, eyes wide. He'd come and his cock hadn't even been touched; that hadn't happened since he was a teenager. Derek bit at the curve of Stiles' neck, breathing heavy as sleep started to claim him. Stiles was too wired to sleep, but couldn't get out from under Derek, and honestly, didn't really want to. He spent a few hours just stroking lines down Derek's back until he fell asleep as well, arms wrapped around Derek.

In the early hours of the next morning, Stiles woke up abruptly, a feeling thrumming through his body with the absolute need to paint. He somehow managed to slip out from Derek's warm body, and ignoring the mess on his stomach and chest, headed to his studio and grabbed the tubes of paint he'd need. He was so caught up in his painting, even hours later, that Stiles didn't even hear the front door open and close. He continued painting, eyes focused on nothing but the canvas, fingers and feet stained with paint, a line of red paint swiped across his chest and several more colours along his forehead as he tried to brush his hair out of his face. Stiles was so caught up in the painting, the need to get the art in his head onto the canvas, that he didn't notice the sun setting, the moon rising and setting, or the sun rising again. He vaguely heard his stomach rumbling, found a water bottle sitting by his paints and drank until he couldn't hear the noise from his stomach again. He considered food a few hours later, when the midday sun shone directly into his studio, but as he turned around, Stiles realised what was missing from his painting and hurried to turn around again, grabbing the towel and the tube of blue paint. _Of course he needed blue; how could he have missed that?_ He actually lost his paintbrush at one point, setting it down right _there, he swears!_ , only to find it _not there_ when he went to grab for it again, so Stiles resorted to painting with his fingers instead. It would add another layer to the painting that no one would expect, and it was always nice to have a personal touch, even if no one noticed it.

Three days had passed by the time Stiles was finished, and he stepped back, feeling weak and dizzy from hunger, but glad for the water bottles he'd kept finding by his paints. He licked his dry lips, turning to look for another bottle, only to see Derek standing in the doorway.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Derek said, grinning a bit. "Food's ready if you're hungry."

Stiles nodded in response, almost slipping over on some wet paint as he headed over to Derek. He caught himself in time, coming to the sudden realisation that he was still naked and the dried ejaculate on his body really needed to be washed off like yesterday.

"I can run a bath, if you need that instead?" Derek offered, grinning now.

"Yeah, maybe that first. I usually paint with clothes on," Stiles muttered.

"I can see why," Derek replied, raising an eyebrow. "You've got an abstract handprint on your ass."

"It's probably mine, but I can't be too sure," Stiles said with a yawn as Derek led him to the bathroom.

Derek helped Stiles clean up, even going so far as to wash the paint out of his hair and scrub his back, fingers and cloth light against his tattoo. Stiles contemplated falling asleep as Derek began to rub the soapy cloth against his chest, the water a myriad of colours around him, when he frowned and looked back at Derek.

"How long have you been in my apartment?"

"Uh, three days. I left to get breakfast that first morning, but you didn't respond. I know how artists can get, so I made sure you had enough water to keep you hydrated and didn't pass out on your paints. Even though it looks like you did," Derek added, chuckling.

Stiles probably should have been a bit more worried than he was, but in all honesty, he was hungrier than he was worried. And it wasn't like Derek had taken advantage of him or something; he'd actually thought to take care of him instead of leaving him. Lydia usually stopped by once a week to make sure he hadn't died in his studio, but that's more because he brought money to the gallery and she didn't want one of her artists to die (although, posthumous sales were shown to increase substantially...).

"What food is there?" Stiles asked sleepily as Derek continued to wash him.

"Chinese. I figured since you had the menu for Golden Dragon on your fridge, in your cutlery drawer, _and_ by the phone that you liked them. Told them your name and they've given me your usual."

"Nice work, Sherlock. Can you help me up? I might fall asleep in my food, just warning you," Stiles mumbled.

"I've seen worse," Derek replied with a shrug, helping Stiles stand up before physically lifting him out of the bath and setting him on his feet.

Stiles took a long moment to appreciate Derek's ass as he leant over to unplug the bath, the dirty water washing out and leaving behind a stain that his cleaner would probably berate him for.

"You want to get clothes on while I heat up the food?" Derek asked.

Stiles nodded and headed to his bedroom, forgoing underwear as he slipped on a pair of his most comfy sweatpants and an old shirt before heading to the kitchen.

"You're the kind of guy that calls a cab for their one-night stand and then pays for it, aren't you?" Stiles asked, taking the offered bowl of rice and chicken.

Derek shrugged slightly. "Just because sex is involved, it doesn't mean I don't have to be a gentleman."

"Mmm, okay. And what about all of _this?_ Even Scott doesn't stay long enough to see me through a full painting, and he's my best friend, as well as my roommate in college."

Derek shrugs. "I liked seeing you work, and I really was concerned that you'd slip on your paint and crack your head open or something with the amount of paint you stepped in."

Stiles can't refute that; he's slipped over before, and he's pretty sure there's still some paint on his toes right now.

"And since I'd like to have sex with you again in the near future, I really didn't want you to injure or kill yourself," Derek added calmly, taking a bit of his rice and beef.

Stiles took a moment to finish choking down his mouthful, then licked his lips with a broad grin. "How near is the near future?"

"That all depends on what time you wake up in the morning."

Yeah, okay, Derek had just invited himself to stay over in Stiles' bed, but he also wasn't going to push Stiles for sex while he was exhausted, even though they were both obviously willing. Hell, that just meant Stiles could cuddle with Derek for the night. He was seeing no downside here whatsoever.

"I'll set my alarm for five."

Derek just snorted in amusement and continued to eat his meal.

At five the next morning, Stiles kissed Derek awake. Derek muttered something about early risers while Stiles teased his cock with his long fingers, and Derek ended up fucking Stiles into the mattress so hard that the bed creaked in protest.

Stiles' next exhibition sold out on the opening night, and this time, Lydia was the one to extend her hand to Derek, thanking him for keeping her favourite artist alive and, apparently, inspired. Derek just nodded, smiling and trying not to blush when he saw a few of the paintings Stiles had done with him as the subject. He was just glad that the more intimate paintings were kept for Stiles alone, and subtly adjusted his shirt over the latest piece of art that spread across his torso.

...

The end.

Thanks for reading!


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